


Glory and Gore

by bfketh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Ensemble Cast, Eventual Smut, Gladiators, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bfketh/pseuds/bfketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the increase in Genetically Modified Humans (some the result of natural mutations and others through deliberate genetic engineering), a form of gladiatorial combat has once again become mankind’s favored form of entertainment. Fortunes have been won and lost on the GenMo Games, and sometimes the fate of worldwide corporations and even countries have hung in the balance on a single outcome. All rules of a match are decided before the contestants enter the arena – the only constant is “no lethal force.”</p><p>The 104th Squadron is the name given to the new rookies, so-called because most of them are from Trost’s 104th District, which was devastated by a chemical waste spill twenty years ago. If they wish to continue in the Games, they have one year to impress the scouts and be recruited into one of the three professional Leagues: The Survey Corps, The Military Police, and The Stationary Guard. There are also rumors of an underground ring of GenMo Games being formed, one that does not forbid lethal force. People that survive long enough in the underground arena are said to be called “Titans”, but no one ever claims to have met one in the flesh…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Eren Has It Handed To Him

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is an ensemble piece, so I'll be cycling through several characters' points of view. Probably best to think of each chapter as an "episode", like in a TV series.

_And the cry goes out_  
_They lose their minds for us_  
_And how it plays out_  
_Now we're in the ring_  
_And we're coming for blood_

      - _Glory and Gore_ by Lorde

 

 

"You've got guts, kid, but you really should surrender."

Eren glared up at the short man from his sprawled position on the arena floor. Or as well as he could glare with only one good eye; the other was obscured by blood streaming steadily from a gash on his forehead that was showing no sign of slowing, which was somewhat worrying. Even more worrying was his left arm hanging uselessly at his side - broken or dislocated, Eren had no idea which. His healing power had stopped responding quite a while ago, exhausted by the brutal fight. Eren was starting to see why Levi was undefeated, the strongest fighter in the Games.

Still, it wasn't in Eren to just roll over and give up. He forced himself up on shaky legs, fighting off a wave of dizziness.

 _"Eren what are you doing?"_ Eren heard Armin's mental voice echoing in his head. _"He's right; you can't fight in the state you're in. You should stop before you get hurt worse."_

Eren shook his head. He had to see this to the end. He only had a year; one year to impress one of the Leagues enough to recruit him or else his chance was gone forever. He had to finish this; win or lose, he had to finish.

Levi raised a single eyebrow. "You're still trying to fight? You fucking moron; you can barely stand. Surrender."

Eren's only response was to spit out a loosened tooth. The bloody fragment bounced off Levi's boot before skittering away across the steel floor.

Levi's lips curled back in disgust. "So, we're doing this the hard way, huh?" He crouched down into a fighting stance, his posture wary. He was waiting for Eren to make the first move.

Eren slowed his breathing and concentrated, finding his inner center of control.

And then he shattered it.

He felt the adrenaline surging through his veins, power filling his limbs. His right eye opened under the curtain of blood, the red washing across his vision matching the red washing across his mind. The vague aches and throbs of his injuries faded away completely. He heard one last comment from Armin before his teammate's voice faded away as well.

_"Goddamn it, Eren..."_

And then the only thing in Eren's mind was rage. Rage focused on one fact: the man in front of him was an opponent.

Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.

_Destroydestroydestroydestroydestroydestroy!_

With an inhuman growl, Eren launched forward, faster than he had been before. Surprise flashed across Levi's face for an instant, right before Eren struck a glancing blow against it. Levi stumbled back, a trickle of blood spilling from a split lip.

For the first time that morning, Levi was put on the defensive as he dodged Eren's wild blows, and the noise of the crowd surrounding the arena rose to an excited pitch. As Levi danced backwards, his silver eyes flickered, analyzing Eren's movements, looking for an opening.

Eren launched a sweeping strike with his left, and Levi raised his hands to meet it instead of dodging. He targeted Eren's weakened arm with precision, knocking it aside. Levi followed through, ducking under Eren's reach and swinging around behind him.

"Sorry about this, kid."

Levi propelled his body into a spinning aerial kick, and his knee connected solidly with the back of Eren's neck.

Everything went black.

**~~~~~**

When Eren came to, he was staring up at a singularly uninteresting white tile ceiling. He blinked a few times, feeling oddly detached, as if his mind was floating several inches above his body. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren could see an IV, a clear liquid slowly dripping from the bag into a line that was presumably attached to his arm.

That explained the floaty feeling, at least.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened, Jaeger." Eren tried to turn his head toward the source of the snarling voice, but there was some sort of brace around his neck. He carefully levered himself up into a sitting position instead. Jean, Mikasa, and Armin were all gathered in the small room next to his bed, looking at him with varying degrees of irritation (Jean) and concern (Mikasa and Armin). Jean crossed his arms and glared. "You over-extended your healing ability, so you're in the Med Center for the next day or two. Until your power recharges, you're gonna have to put up with being injured like the rest of us. And _that_ means that we're a team member short for our three-on-three tonight. Or were you so fucking eager to impress your _hero_ that you forgot about that?"

Eren winced, but then he met Jean's amber eyes glare for glare. "It was an _evaluation_ match, Jean. You know the first cut is coming soon; I couldn't half-ass it. And don't try to tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

Jean opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a dry, deep voice coming from the doorway. "And you really think that acting like an idiot who doesn't know his own limitations is going to stop the Leagues from sending your sorry ass back home?"

Every eye in the room turned to see Levi, casually leaning against the door frame. He'd changed out of his body armor and into casual clothes, a simple pair of black jeans and a dark, long-sleeved t-shirt. " _You_." Mikasa was practically hissing as she started to head to the door.

Jean quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, stopping her. "Babe, don't. Calm down."

"I _am_ calm." She glared at Levi who stared steadily back, his face relaxed into a bored expression. "You could've broken Eren's neck. What the hell were you _thinking_?"

"I knew what I was doing. And don’t blame me for…this.” He waved at where Eren was propped against the headboard of the bed. “I gave him plenty of chances to surrender. He chose not to.”

Mikasa’s lips were still settled into an angry line, and she opened her mouth to retort, but Eren cut her off. “He’s right, Mikasa. He kept asking me to surrender, and Armin told me to, too. I'm the one that decided to keep fighting."

Mikasa looked at Eren, then over to Armin, who nodded. Her shoulders slumped, and she lost the murderous aura. Although the look she shot Eren promised him that they would _talk_ \- or rather, Eren would _listen_ \- as soon as he recovered from his injuries.

Jean relaxed his hold on Mikasa when it became clear that she wasn’t going to charge at Levi anymore. She straightened up, giving him one last challenging glare before she pointedly turned her back to him.

Levi pushed away from the door. “Well, I saw what I came here to see. I imagine I’ll be meeting you all again.” His lips twitched up into something closer to a smirk than a smile, cold and not at all friendly. “If you manage not to get cut next week, that is.”

Eren, Armin, and Jean watched him walk away, and then Jean sagged into one of the chairs beside the window. "...the hell was that about?"

Armin ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe he wanted to check on Eren?"

Mikasa snorted at that. Eren sighed. "I _really_ doubt that, Ar. Why would someone like him be worried about some rookie?"

Jean looked thoughtful. "Actually, Armin might be onto something. I've been watching the evaluation matches, and you're the only one that Survey Corps sent Levi to evaluate. It's weird. We haven't even had the first cuts yet, so why are they sending out their best fighter?"

Armin nodded. "It's not just that. Erwin Smith was Levi's Coordinator for the match."

Eren groaned and shut his eyes. "The _leader_ of Survey Corps watched me get my ass handed to me? Fan-fucking-tastic, Armin. Thanks for letting me know; that really makes me feel better about my chances of moving forward."

"You should be worried, Jaeger. That was a sorry performance out there today." Four pairs of eyes snapped toward the doorway where Keith Shadis, the man in charge of the current crop of rookies, stood with his arms crossed. "Luckily for your teammates, I've got someone to sub in for you tonight. He's a late entry, just transfered in from the Jinae Division. I want to see how he works with a team before I set him up in any solo matches, and you'll do." Shadis jerked his head at the three gathered around Eren's bed. "Arlert, Kirschstein, Ackerman. Come with me. We've got just enough time to get the introductions out of the way before you have to get ready for the match. Jaeger, get some sleep. The more you rest, the sooner you're back on your feet." He turned and walked away, the trench coat he always wore swirling behind him as the harsh and unforgiving light of the Med Center gleamed off his bald pate. The others followed, murmuring goodnight to Eren as they left.

Eren slid back down into bed. He didn't go to sleep, however. He stared up at the tile of the ceiling as worry and doubt gnawed through his brain.

He'd grown up poor, like most mutants. And, like most mutants, the GenMo Games were really the only way out of the slums. People didn't want to hire mutants, didn't want to live next to them. But, if you had enough money, you could live anywhere. And the GenMo Games certainly provided money.

The problem was even getting in. There were three professional Leagues based in Trost, and they only opened up to new recruits once every five years. After six months of intensive training which thinned out the numbers of the hopefuls to about one hundred rookies, they were allowed to start competing in the Arena in solo matches, duos, and trios (and the occasional Brawl match with as many as twenty competitors in the Arena at once). Representatives of the Leagues would watch these matches, as well as send their own fighters in to "evaluate" each rookie. Coordinators, the invaluable members of each team that watched over the fight from an observation booth and relayed strategy and warnings to the fighters on the ground, were evaluated a bit differently, by having an observer sit in with them during a match.

After the first round of evaluations, the rookies would be cut by one half. The decision on who to cut would be made by the Chairman of the Games, Darius Zackley, and the three leaders, or Commanders, of the Leagues. The leaders were currently Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, Nile Dawk of the Military Police, and Dot Pixis of the Stationary Guard. After the cut, each surviving rookie would be assigned a mentor from one of the Leagues; usually this was a good indication of who would approach you with a recruitment offer, if any. In the end, though, each League would only accept eleven new members - ten fighters and one Coordinator. If you were a fighter that also worked as a Coordinator, like Jean, you counted as a fighter for recruitment.

Eren chewed on his lip, wondering if he'd totally screwed his chances. He'd done well in his evaluations with the MP and the Guard, but Survey...

 _'Maybe it would have been better if I had surrendered.'_ The thought of surrendering still sat like bile in his stomach, though. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference.

"Arrgh!" Frustrated, Eren slammed his hand against the railing of the bed. Unfortunately for him, it was his _left_ hand, and the resulting shockwave of pain shooting up from his elbow and shoulder had him gasping and nearly in tears. Swearing to himself, he reached for the remote to turn on the TV, thinking that he could at least watch Jean and Mikasa's match to distract himself from the pain and the endless thoughts circling through his head.

And, to be honest, he was more than a little curious about this mysterious new transfer to the Trost Division…


	2. A Synthetic Replacement

Jean followed Shadis as he led them through the twisting corridors that made up the Arena complex. The Med Center was built into the walls of the Arena, while the rooms used by the fighters as they waited for their matches to start were located under the floor of the Arena itself.

Shadis stopped at one of several identical waiting rooms in the trainee section. Like all of them, it was rather utilitarian, with some padded benches and chairs, a TV showing the Arena feed, and two coolers; one with plain water and one with some sort of sports drink. As they entered, a tall, dark-haired man that had been facing the monitor turned to face them. The first things Jean noticed about the man were warm brown eyes set above cheeks scattered with freckles.

The other thing Jean noticed was an intricate barcode tattooed down the side of his neck, just under his right ear.

Jean whirled on Shadis, furious. “You can’t be serious. You really think I’d let a fucking _Synth_ on my team?!”

There were two types of Genetically Modified Humans: mutants, who, as the name implied, were the result of either a spontaneous mutation of their DNA during gestation or of inheriting a parent’s mutation, and synthetics, or Synths, who were the result of deliberate gene manipulation. Said genetic manipulation came with a hefty price tag, and as a result most synthetics were the children of wealthy parents. They also didn't face most of the prejudice mutants did; when it was initiated by people with money, influence, and power, something that normally was seen as undesirable suddenly became trendy. Having your child made into a synthetic was a status symbol - the Aston Martin of the late 21st century.

Shadis fixed Jean with an unimpressed stare and crossed his arms. “There’s no one else, Kirschstein. You either suck it up and fight with Marco on your team or you forfeit the match.” Jean opened his mouth, about to agree to the forfeit, but Shadis continued, “Of course, that would be a real shame for Armin.”

“Me?” Armin squeaked from next to Mikasa.

“I just got word from Survey. I guess they decided that as long as they were here, they’re going to do your evaluation this match. If you forfeit...” Shadis shrugged. “Well, they might reschedule if you can convince them the forfeit was entirely Kirschstein’s fault. ‘Course, that wouldn't look very good for _him_. Might also make him look bad to the MP, too, considering that Commander Dawk is a Synth.” Shadis fixed his deep-set eyes back on Jean. “I can tell you right now - you won’t make the initial cut if you turn two out of three Leagues against you.”

Jean ground his teeth together until he felt a hand wrap around his clenched fist. He looked down, meeting Mikasa’s calm, dark eyes, and exhaled. “Fine.” He turned back to the Synth - Marco - who had quietly watched the entire exchange. “Can you at least fight?”

Marco smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he did. “Oh, I think I can handle myself well enough. I won’t slow you down, anyway.”

Jean grunted and looked Marco up and down. He was wearing the same form-fitting flexible body armor that Jean and Mikasa were, and his physique seemed strong enough, more compact and solid than Jean’s own wiry frame, but not bulky. Then again, if Jinae’s preliminary training was anything like Trost’s, he wouldn't have made it this far if he was a weakling. “Well, it’s just one match. Although I’m still trying to figure out what a Synth is even doing here.”

Marco was still smiling, but something about it seemed a little harder now, like velvet-covered steel. “I have my reasons.”

Before Jean could respond, a chime sounded, signaling that it was time for them to get into position. Shadis herded the four of them out of the room. Jean, Mikasa, and Marco headed for the entrance to the Arena while Armin split off for the elevator that would take him up to the observation booth.

The three fighters stopped in front of the huge steel doors leading out to the Arena floor while somewhere on the opposite side of the complex their opponents were doing the same. Slowly. the doors pulled back, and Jean stepped out with the others, momentarily blinded by the bright lights shining down from far overhead. The screams from the crowd echoed in his ears and thrummed through his bones, making him forget his annoyance with Shadis and his unwanted teammate. None of that mattered now, not with the energy from the audience and his own pre-fight adrenaline surging through his veins.

_This_ was the one moment when Jean felt truly alive.

The Arena was set up to look like a ruined, ancient city this time. During Eren's fight, it had been just a bare, steel floor. Eren would have been grumbling about the change. Jean, however, liked the artificial environments; they added a depth of strategy to the Games.

_"Your opponents are Reiner, Annie, and Bertholt,"_ Armin said into Jean's mind. _"Annie's coming down from your left. Bertholt's taking the right, and Reiner's heading down the center."_

_"Alright. Mikasa, you take Annie; you're probably the only one that can hold her off. We'll take out Bertl and Reiner as fast as we can and then come back you up."_ One thing Jean appreciated about Armin as a Coordinator was that they didn't have to bother with ear pieces and transmitters at all; he could easily relay their thoughts to the entire team, reducing the chance that the opponents would overhear their strategy. _"I'll cover Reiner, and that leaves Bertl for Freckles. Whichever of us finishes first will go help the other."_

_"Oh, so I'm 'Freckles' now?"_ Marco grinned over at Jean. _"Okay, I'll see you in five minutes."_

_"As much as I appreciate the vote of confidence in my abilities, Reiner is nearly a literal tank."_

_"Who said I was talking about **your** fight?"_ And with that, Marco sprinted off between the buildings.

Jean looked after him, shaking his head in disbelief. Even if Bertholt wasn't the best fighter out of the three they faced, all of them had healing abilities like Eren. No matter how good the Synth was, or _thought_ he was, the fight wouldn't be easy.

He felt a hand touch his arm and glanced over at Mikasa. She nodded at him and then ran off to find Annie after he nodded back.

Jean took off, relying on his speed to get him to the center of the Arena long before Reiner got there. He consulted with Armin to find a good hiding spot near where Reiner was likely to pass by, hoping that he'd been fast enough that their opponents' Coordinator had lost track of him. Jean waited, concentrating on gathering energy in his left hand while he did.

He heard the slight scuffle of footsteps in the artificial rubble moments before Armin shouted _"Now!"_

Jean whipped around the wall he was hiding behind, releasing a concussive blast right at Reiner's head. It should have been enough to knock him out, but the big blond just shook his head slightly and turned to Jean with a grin. "You really thought that trick would work on me twice, Kirschstein?" Reiner's skin had an odd, almost metallic sheen to it; he'd obviously activated his power already.

"Well, it was worth a shot." Jean jumped out of the way as Reiner swung a massive fist at him, releasing another bolt of energy at him as he did. It bounced harmlessly off of Reiner's armor-like skin, and the two of them ended up in an odd stalemate - Jean was far too fast and agile for Reiner to hit, and Reiner was impervious to Jean's energy attacks.

The fight had barely begun when a blood-curdling scream echoed out over the noise of the crowd, accompanied by a white flare shooting up toward the ceiling. Reiner turned at the sound, and Jean shot another concussive blast at the back of his neck. He staggered a little, that time; Jean had discovered in one of their previous fights that his armor wasn't as strong there. Reiner turned back to face Jean as an announcement sounded. "Bertholt Hoover - Surrendered." A cheer went up from the stands.

Jean and Reiner shared one moment of mutual gape-mouthed surprise before Jean was once again dodging Reiner’s powerful swings. He only had to hold out just a little longer...

Reiner suddenly grunted as a chunk of rubble hit him squarely in the back. He whipped around, only to have another projectile come hurling at him from a different direction. He started to turn around but then spun back to smash a third chunk out of the air.

Only to completely miss when it dodged in mid-air as if it had a mind of its own before whirling around to strike him in the back again.

“Telekinesis,” he muttered, brushing fragments of rock out of his short blond hair. Reiner shot a grin at Jean. “Look at you, Jeanny-boy. Making new friends all on your own when I’m not around.”

“It’s a talent.” Jean fired another blast at Reiner before ducking under an almost lazily swung fist. Reiner continued to press him, driving him back, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to fight him; it was more like he was trying to lead him in a certain direct-

_Oh, no._

Jean realized too late that Reiner’s Coordinator must have spotted where Marco was hiding. Reiner struck his arm out into an open doorway as he followed Jean past it. When he hauled his arm back out, he dragged Marco with him by the collar of his body armor.

“Tsk, tsk.” Reiner wagged a finger at Marco. "Not very sportsmanlike - attacking from hiding like that." He dropped Marco roughly, making him stumble. Before Marco could regain his footing or Jean could intervene, Reiner connected a solid punch to Marco's midsection, sending him flying several yards until his back slammed against a wall and he slumped down to the floor.

Reiner turned to Jean. "Alright, it's been fun, but I think it's time we stopped playing games." He took one menacing step forward, and then another. Jean slowly backed away, preparing another energy blast. But before he could release it, Reiner froze, an expression of pure terror flashing across his face for an instant. At the same moment, Jean felt an inexplicable thread of fear brush against his mind, making him tense in place as well.

_"Jean! Duck!"_

Armin's voice shouting in his head was enough to snap him out of it, and he threw himself down behind a pile of rubble.

Just in time, as a huge chunk of the wall Marco had landed against crashed over top of Reiner, sending broken bits of brick and stone everywhere. Reiner let out a single, surprised grunt before toppling to the ground like a felled tree. The communicator on Reiner's wrist that measured vital signs started to blink red, and the announcement that immediately followed confirmed the device's signal. "Reiner Braun - TKO."

Jean stood up and looked at Marco. The other man was leaning heavily against what was left of the building behind him, one arm wrapped around his chest as he panted for air. Sweat shone on skin gone pale under his freckles, and he made a shooing motion to Jean. "You go on ahead. I don't think anything's broken, but I don't think I can run, either. I'll catch up in a few minutes."

Jean nodded and took off, following the directions Armin relayed until he found Mikasa and Annie.

They had somehow made their way to the top of a four-story, mostly intact building. Jean watched for a moment as they traded blows, Annie occasionally launching ice projectiles at Mikasa, who either knocked them aside with her bare hands or drew out fire from the air to melt them before they touched her. Jean gathered his own concussive energy once more, waiting for an opening.

He had it, as Annie danced back from Mikasa's flame just a little too far, teetering close to the drop off from the flat roof. His blast only hit Annie with a glancing blow, but it was enough to further upset her balance, and Mikasa dove in like a bird of prey, knocking Annie's feet out from under her and sending her down off the building and to the Arena floor.

Jean ran to where she'd fallen. Annie was dazed from the landing, but not unconscious, and Jean wrestled her into a submission hold before her regenerative powers kicked in. He was vaguely aware of the countdown being displayed on the monitors high above, but most of his concentration was being taken up with keeping his grip on the deceptively strong, tiny blonde woman.

"Annie Leonhardt - Pinned."

Jean immediately stood up, reflexively offering his hand to Annie to help her to her feet. She wordlessly stared at his hand until Jean started to sheepishly withdraw it, but then she shrugged and reached up, gripping tightly and standing easily. By then, Mikasa had climbed down from the building, and Marco had reached them as well. Annie's impassive blue eyes flicked between the three of them before she nodded.

"Good fight." Jean could have sworn he saw the corners of Annie's mouth twitch up in the barest hint of a smile as she uttered the words, right before she turned on her heel and marched to the exit without a backward glance.

Jean stared at her dumbfounded for a moment until the realization that they'd _won_ sunk in, and he turned to look at Mikasa and Marco with a grin. He reached for both of them, the same way he always did when it was Eren fighting with them, and raised their joined hands high above their heads as the cheers of the crowd swelled and broke around them like waves on sand. He wasn't thinking of Marco as "the Synth" anymore. He'd fought at their side, holding nothing back, proving himself not only as a good fighter, but as a teammate.

And right now, surrounded by his team, the noise of the crowd once more vibrating through his body and pulsing in time with his heartbeat, there was nowhere else on Earth that Jean would rather be.


	3. Assignments and Blowing Off Steam

Meeting Erwin Smith had been slightly nerve-wracking, if Armin were being honest with himself. Even if the man had just calmly smiled and told Armin to pretend as if he wasn't there. It wasn't really that simple, of course - since Armin communicated entirely to his team via telepathy, that meant he had to include Erwin in the link as well. So Armin had to juggle  _four_ people in his head instead of the usual three, two of whom were complete strangers. Both of whom also had strong mental powers of their own, so Armin had to make extra sure his personal shields were tight to prevent them picking up anything he didn't want them to pick up.

He'd been a little miffed that Jean had just sent Marco off without asking what his powers were; Jean was usually a better strategist than that. Armin had gleaned right away from his first tentative mental brush with Marco that the man was an empath, and a strong one. Armin had played that to their advantage; it had been pure luck that Jean had sent Marco after the one member of the other trio that had the weakest mental shields by far. One overwhelming projection of fear into Bertholt's mind had sent him screaming and immediately hitting the "surrender" button on his communicator. The same trick had only worked to distract Reiner, and it would have been pointless to even attempt it with Annie - the woman had the tightest shields Armin had ever seen. _  
_

After the match, Erwin had shaken his hand and thanked him for his time, and Armin didn't see him  _or_ Marco again until the beginning of the next week, when all the trainees filed into the auditorium to find out if they were still in the running for the Games.

Armin quickly found a seat next to Eren and the others. A few minutes later, a voice from the aisle asked, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

He looked up to see Marco smiling down at him. He smiled back. "It is now."

"Thanks."

As Marco settled into the empty seat, Eren craned around Armin to look at him. "Dude, are you alright?"

"Hm?" Marco raised is eyebrows, and then a look of comprehension flitted across his face. "Oh, this." He brushed his fingers over a large bruise discoloring the right side of his jaw. "I had to do all three of my evaluation matches this week, since I transferred so late."

"That's brutal." Eren reached his hand across Armin to Marco. "I'm Eren, by the way."

Marco shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. You're the one I filled in for, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks for that. God knows this dork can use all the help he can get." Eren kicked the back of Jean's chair in front of him, making Jean turn around and frown at him. Eren ignored him. "That was an awesome fight, by the way; I've never seen anyone take Bert out so fast before."

Armin arched an eyebrow at his friend.  _"I can change seats with you if you want so it's easier to flirt."_

Eren spluttered, his ears turning red. "Ar! I wasn't!"

"Sure, sure."

Marco was looking between Armin and Eren, confused. Jean, however, was used to witnessing seemingly one-sided conversations when Armin was involved, and turned to Marco. "So, Bodt, why'd you transfer so late in the season, anyway?"

"Oh, well, I wanted to join the Trost Division from the start because my, um, my family lives in Trost." Marco shrugged. "But I was living in Jinae when the trials started because one of my father's old friends had gotten me a job there, and I couldn't afford to travel back here in time. I actually put in for the transfer as soon as I made it through prelims, but they kept delaying on the decision. I think they were hoping I'd give up and stay in the Jinae Division."

Jean's eyebrows furrowed together. "Couldn't afford to move? But..." Jean trailed off as his eyes flicked to the tattoo along Marco's neck.

Armin groaned and hid his eyes behind his hand. "Jean? What did I tell you about ending your conversations a sentence earlier?"

Jean actually had the grace to look embarrassed as he flushed and murmured, "Sorry."

Marco laughed. "No, it's okay. To answer your question, have you ever heard of Bodt Industries?"

Jean shook his head slowly. "No...?"

"Well, there you go."

Before anyone else could ask any questions, the lights in the auditorium dimmed, and Chairman Zackley stepped up to the podium placed on the forefront of the stage. Behind him, the three Commanders lined up in a row.

Zackley cleared his throat. "Good morning, trainees. After much deliberation, we have narrowed down the potential field of candidates to sixty. Those of you who made the cut will be receiving your mentor assignments shortly. If you did  _not_ make the cut, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to return to your quarters and pack your belongings. You should be proud to have made it this far, and perhaps I will see some of you again in five years. Transmission of the results to your communicators will begin..." Zackley held up his own wrist and pressed a button on the band covering it. "Now!"

Armin's comm beeped as the transmission came through. He took a deep breath, and then pushed the button. The screen projection popped up, showing the crossed wings symbol of Survey Corps. Superimposed over it was the name "Hanji Zoe."

Armin released his breath just as Jean let out an exclamation of surprise. Mikasa elbowed him, and he looked around sheepishly before turning back to Armin. He flashed him a grin and held up his wrist so Armin could see Erwin Smith's name flashing on the screen.

"Who'd you get, Mikasa?" Armin asked quietly. He had no doubts that Mikasa would have made it past the cuts.

She answered him with a small smile curving her lips, "I'm Survey Corps, too. Mike Zacharius."

"Looks like we'll be teammates for at least a little while longer, then," Marco spoke up from Armin's left. "I've been assigned to Nanaba."

Armin looked around the room as those who had been cut trickled out, some with resigned acceptance and some leaning against each other for support as tears streamed down their faces, and he realized that Eren had gone oddly quiet beside him. He turned and saw his friend frozen with an expression of shocked disbelief on his face as he stared at his comm. Armin felt his stomach sink. "Eren. Eren, it's okay. If Mikasa and I end up recruited, we can help you and your family out, and you can always try again in five years, you're only twenty..."

"Holy shit," Eren finally breathed out. He looked up wide-eyed at the other four. "My mentor is Levi."

**~~~~~**

The rest of that day was a fairly solemn affair as those who didn't make it to the next round packed their bags and headed home, wherever "home" happened to be for them. Tomorrow, there was going to be a party for the ones that had passed into the final round of training and competition, and the next day they'd leave the trainee quarters as well, splitting up to join the headquarters of whichever League was sponsoring them. Until the start of the party, their time was theirs to do whatever they wished.

Therefore, Armin wasn't terribly surprised when Jean pounded on his door shortly after midnight.

He groaned and pulled himself out of bed. It had been a long and emotionally draining day, although luckily most of his friends had not only made the cuts, but would be joining him in Survey Corps as well. Still, he'd been looking forward to a long night of uninterrupted sleep, for once. Armin opened the door, and took one look at Jean and Eren standing in his doorway sporting identical wolfish grins, the other guys lined up behind them, before uttering a clipped, "No." He started to shut the door, but Jean brought up his arm to stop it.

"C'mon, Armin. You know we can't do this without you."

"Good. I refuse to be a party to the lot of you breaking your necks."

"Aw, don't be like that. This might be the last chance all of us have to hang out like this."

"Tough." Armin crossed his arms, conveying with his entire posture that he would not be moved.

**~~~~~**

"Why do I let them talk me into things like this?" Armin asked out loud to no one in particular as he banged his head back against a tree and huddled deeper into his hoodie.

Part of his consciousness was swooping along with the rest of the group, as they raced around the Trost rooftops in a route that would bring them in a large circle that would end back at the park next to the Arena. Armin's job was to keep an eye out (an "inner eye," to be precise) for anyone that might want to interrupt the race. Specifically, for police officers, or, more importantly, Keith Shadis.

Armin's stomach gave a flip as Eren's footing slipped as he jumped from a rooftop to a fire escape. Luckily, Ymir was right there and grabbed him effortlessly, giving him a boost up to the next roof before bounding up onto it herself.

"Here."

Armin gave a start as a paper coffee cup was thrust in front of his face. He took it, glancing over to see Annie looking up at him with a bored expression. She had a second cup in her other hand. He smiled. "Thanks."

Annie tilted her head and sat down in the grass at the base of the tree. Armin followed suit, taking a sip of the coffee Annie had gotten him. It was vanilla mocha, and, more importantly, it was warm and caffeinated.

Part of his mind still with the rest of the group, who so far hadn't drawn much attention, apart from a couple of startled cats and several bewildered pigeons, but he turned the rest of his attention to Annie. "Why aren't you racing with the rest of them?"

She shrugged. "Too cold tonight."

"Hm." Armin sipped his drink again. It  _was_ cold. Even though summer was fast approaching, the nights hadn't seemed to have gotten the message yet. "You got into the Military Police, right? It might be a while before you see Reiner and Bertholt again." Annie's two teammates were going into the Survey Corps with Armin and the others.

Annie shrugged again. "I'll be spending all day with those big oafs tomorrow. Besides, Marcel will be with me, so it won't be too bad."

"Oh." The conversation died out while Armin wondered if that meant that Annie had specifically chosen to sit out the race to spend some time with  _him_.

Back at the race, they'd reached the open area at the far end of the park. Some of them clambered down the fire escape of the last building, while others slid down a sturdy drainpipe. Connie just scaled the bare brickwork of the building. Then they were off across the open expanse of the park, jumping over benches and running along fence rails. They came pelting into view, and Armin dropped his mental connection, partly with relief, and partly with frustration that it hadn't taken just a little bit longer. _  
_

Jean bent over his knees, panting for breath. "Hah!" He grinned at Ymir over his shoulder. "Beat you!"

"Yeah, well, Mikasa still kicked your ass, Cherry Boy."

"Always does."

"Gross. I really didn't need to know that."

"Having fun, are we?"

The entire group froze as the voice cut through the chatter like steel. Armin gaped as Levi stepped into view underneath one of the lamps lining the pathway. He'd never even sensed him approach.

He looked over the group huddled together. "Unless I'm mistaken, curfew still applies tonight, yes?" There was faint murmuring through the crowd, and Levi crossed his arms. "Go back to bed, all of you, and be thankful I'm not mentioning this to Shadis." They started to disperse, when Levi's voice rang out again. "All of you except Jaeger, that is."

Eren froze, and Armin hung back with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mikasa and Jean moving closer as well.

Levi stepped up to him. "Since it seems like you have so much energy, I think we can get your training started early. Meet me here tomorrow at 8 a.m., sharp."

Eren spluttered, "I can't! I have plans!"

"Your plans can wait."

"No, they can't! Please!"

"You should have thought of that before you decided to run across half the roofs in the neighborhood like a demented mountain goat on crack."

Armin saw Eren's neck flush a deep shade of purple-red and stepped forward before his friend's temper could get the best of him. "Sir?" He swallowed as Levi's cold gaze moved from Eren to him. "Um, Eren really can't put it off. He's helping his parents tomorrow."

Levi sighed. "Fine. Meet me here at eight, and  _after_ we take care of your errands, you and I are going to start training."

"Wait, 'we?!'" Eren's mouth was hanging open.

"Yes, 'we.'" Levi smirked. "So, for your sake, I hope the blond coconut wasn't lying about your parents."

With that, Levi turned on his heel and walked off into the darkness. The four of them stared after him in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

Armin finally broke it. "I... I don't really look like a coconut, do I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the complete mentor list for anyone interested (or at least, the mentors for anyone important):
> 
> Erwin - Jean  
> Mike - Mikasa  
> Nanaba - Marco  
> Nifa - Mina  
> Hanji - Armin  
> Moblit - Krista  
> Levi - Eren  
> Farlan - Connie  
> Isabel - Sasha  
> Petra - Bertholt  
> Gunter - Ymir  
> Erd - Reiner  
> Oluo - Thomas
> 
> Marlowe - Marcel  
> Hitch - Annie


	4. On the Street Where You Live

Levi's head was pounding, and he pulled the brim of his baseball cap lower to shield his eyes from the early morning sun. He'd actually managed to drift off to sleep at around midnight the night before, which was nothing short of a  _fucking miracle_ , when the thumping of footsteps on the goddamn roof had jolted him wide awake. He'd stepped out on his balcony just in time to see the ragged line of trainees leaping onto the neighboring building.

As satisfying as it had been to see nearly twenty people almost shit their pants at the same time when he showed up at the park, it hadn't made up for the fact that his insomnia had kicked in full blast after that. Levi doubted that he'd managed to doze off for more than two hours once he'd returned home.

Levi looked up as a car pulled up alongside the sidewalk fronting the park. He eyed it warily as Eren looked at him from the driver's seat. It had to be at  _least_ twenty years old, judging by the stink of the exhaust. Levi wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he climbed into the passenger's side anyway. At least the interior was clean. He looked over at Eren, who was fiddling with the knob of the gearshift and very obviously avoiding Levi's eyes. "Where do you even find places that still sell gasoline?"

Eren shrugged and pulled out into the street once Levi had the seatbelt buckled. "There's a lot of stations still in 104th. Hydro cars kind of stand out there; no one can afford them."

The ride was awkward and quiet. Finally, Eren pulled into a parking lot. Levi got out with him and looked around. "A grocery store? You came all the way out here to go to a grocery store?"

"The ones by the Arena are all those weird 'gourmet' groceries. This one's got good products, and it's cheaper."

Levi followed Eren through the aisles, watching as he carefully compared prices and filled the cart. Most of it was things that would keep well - rice, beans, and root vegetables - as well as some fresh fruit and vegetables. As Levi watched him look through the meat case with a critical eye, he spoke up, "I know trainees don't get paid as much as the fighters, but I don't think you need to be  _this_ frugal, kid."

Eren finally put two packages of chicken in his cart with a frown. "It's not for me. I'd just give them money, but Mom and Dad probably wouldn't accept it. They'll take groceries, though Mom'll yell at me if I spend too much."

"Oh." Levi stayed silent for the rest of the shopping until they were loading the bags into Eren's car, when a thought occurred to him. "I thought your bio said your dad was a doctor."

Eren blinked at him in surprise. "You read my bio?"

Levi rolled his eyes and slammed the trunk shut. "Of course I did. I'm your mentor, aren't I?"

"Oh, right." They got in the car, and Eren started it up and drove out of the lot. "Well, yeah, Dad's a doctor, but he works at the charity clinic. He's one of the only doctors in the city that will treat Mutants, too, so it's not like it exactly pays well."

"Ah." Levi watched out the window as the buildings grew shabbier, the spaces between them narrowing until it seemed like they were leaning into each other in order to prop themselves up. "We didn't even have clinics in the Underground. You either got better on your own, or you died."

The Underground wasn't a proper district. The core of downtown Trost was built over the ruins of a much older city, like a tree growing up from a rotting carcass. The old city hadn't even been demolished, just paved over, the buildings forming the foundations of the ones above, the streets becoming tunnels winding through the darkness of a giant, artificial cave. No one officially owned any part of the Underground; your space was whatever territory you managed to carve out for yourself and hold onto with tooth and nail. Only the poorest of the poor lived there - the ones with nowhere else to go.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the car, mercifully cut short when Eren pulled into the parking lot of an old tenement building. "We're here."

Levi helped Eren gather the groceries from the trunk and followed him around to the entrance of the building. They'd only just stepped onto the sidewalk when a group of young men pushed away from the worn brick wall to block their path. "Well, look who's back." The one that seemed to be the leader moved forward and smirked up at Eren, greasy blond hair straggling over one eye. "Finally get kicked out of the Games, Freak?"

Levi stood back, watching Eren's knuckles turn white as he gripped the shopping bags tighter. Eren growled at the slur, low and deep in the back of his throat. " _No_. Now get the fuck out of my way, Eric."

"Nice bluff, Jaeger." The one he'd named Eric smirked and brushed his hair out of his face. "We all know the cuts we're yesterday, and here you are."

"It's too bad his sister wasn't the one sent home." One of the other boys leered at Eren. "Would liked to have a shot at that fine ass, even if she was a Freak."

"Don't be stupid." Even though his words were directed at his friend, Eric kept his eyes trained on Eren. "She's with Kirschstein. Probably making more Freak babies with him, as if there aren't enough running around here already." He grinned. "'Course, that's not something we've got to worry about with you, is it Jaeger? At least you've got the good sense to like dick. The fewer of your kind breeding the better."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING-"

"Alright, I've heard about enough shit spewing outta that ass you call a face." Levi stepped in front of Eren and pulled off his hat, fixing the group with a cold stare. As much as he would have loved seeing Eren beat the shit out of those deserving idiots, Eren wasn't a full-fledged member of the Games yet, and a street fight could get him kicked out.

Levi, however, didn't have that restriction. At worst, he'd get suspended for a match or two and a fine.

Eric sneered. "What, you gotta get your  _boyfriend_ to fight your battles for you? That's so path- What?!" He turned to glare at one of his friends, who was urgently tugging at his arm.

"Dude! Dude, that's  _Levi_. From Survey Corps!"

As one, the entire group turned to look at him again, all the color draining from their faces. Levi could almost pinpoint the exact moment their bowels collectively tightened. Finally, Eric shrugged, trying to salvage what dignity he could. "Pft. You're not worth it anyway, Jaeger."

Less than a minute later, they were gone, the sidewalk leading up to the building clear. Eren glared at the retreating backs and muttered, "I could have handled them."

"I know." Levi put his cap back on. "Come on, let's go."

He let Eren lead the way inside and up a rickety set of stairs to the ninth floor. "Sorry, the building doesn't have an elevator. Ah, watch this one; the board's loose on the right."

"Stop apologizing Eren. I'm not such an old man yet that I can't handle a few steps."

"Right. Sorry." Eren cringed and shot a look out of the corner of his eye at Levi as yet another apology slipped out.

Levi snorted and nudged Eren with his elbow. "Relax, Eren. I don't bite." He paused, considering, before continuing, "Well, not outside of bed, anyway."

Eren spluttered and turned red, and the corner of Levi's lip twitched up in amusement. Before Eren could manage to spit anything out, a door a little ways down the hall opened, and a slightly plump, middle-aged woman, her graying brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, stepped out and brightened as she saw them approach. "Eren! Coming to see your parents again?"

Eren smiled. "Yes, ma'am. We've got the day off today, and I haven't visited in a while, so..."

The woman snorted. "Please. I see you here all the time. Carla is a lucky woman to have such a devoted son. Certain  _other_ sons could learn from your example."

Eren's smile stretched into a grin. "I'll make sure to tell Jean that when I see him."

"Oh, don't bother. Tell Mikasa instead. Jeanbo means well, but it's always in one ear and out the other with him."

"Alright, I'll do that." Eren laughed and continued down the hall. "See you later, Mrs. Kirschstein!"

Levi gave the woman a polite nod as he followed Eren to an apartment at the end of the hall and she continued toward the stairs. Eren unlocked the door and pushed in, calling out as he did, "Mom! Are you home?"

"In the kitchen, Eren!"

Eren took off his shoes at the door, and Levi did the same while also hanging his hat up on one of the hooks by the entrance. He tried not to gawk around as he followed Eren through the living room and into the kitchen, but the general impression that he got from the apartment was a feeling of homeyness. Most of the furnishings were obviously cheap or second-hand with a touch of shabbiness, but they were clean and well-cared for. The kitchen was much the same as the living room. A woman stood at the counter, chopping vegetables before sliding them into the crock pot sitting next to the cutting board. She turned her head as Eren set his grocery bags on the counter, Levi following suit. The woman was very obviously Eren's mother; she looked very nearly like an older, female version of him, save her eyes were an unusual shade of gold instead of Eren's bluish-green, but they were just as bright.

"Oh! You brought company?"

"Ah, yeah. Mom, this is Levi. Levi, this is my mom."

Levi nodded, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jaeger."

"Please, call me Carla. I'd offer to shake your hand, but..." She gestured at the cutting board. "Eren, you have a guest. Aren't you going to offer him anything to drink?"

"O-oh, yeah." Eren looked at Levi. "Um, do you want some tea or coffee? Or I think we have juice..."

"Tea's fine. I can wait until you finish putting away the groceries, though."

"Right. Thanks. You can sit down if you want; this won't take long."

Levi took a seat at the kitchen table with his back to the wall. Meanwhile, Eren was putting everything he bought away, and, oddly enough, announcing what each item was and where he was putting it. Surely, Carla could  _see_ where...

_Oh._

Levi looked over at Eren's mother more closely. This time, he noticed little things, like how her hand carefully felt the rim of the pot before she poured anything in, how she always set the knife down in precisely the same spot when she wasn't using it, how she ran her hand along the spice rack on the wall, fingers touching each bottle as though she were counting them before she picked up the one she wanted. The way she would stop and smell a spice before she actually added any to the food she was making. By the time Eren set down three cups of tea and Carla joined them, Levi blurted out, "Are you blind?"

Eren choked on the sip of tea he had just taken, and Levi felt his cheeks heating up. Carla, however, laughed. "Yes, I am. Have been ever since the chemical spill. But I don't miss it so much." Her lips curled in a small smile as she raised her cup up to drink. "So, Levi, I must say it's a pleasure to meet you after hearing so much about you."

"About...me?"

"Mom!" Eren's eyes went wide and darted back and forth between Levi and his mother.

Carla ignored the pleading note in his voice. "Oh, yes. Practically ever since you made Survey Corps ten years ago, it's been 'Levi this,' and 'Levi that.' You know, he actually tried to apply at the last recruitment? But he was only fifteen, so of course he was turned down. Ever since, he's been going on about how he was going to make Survey Corps this year and impress you." Carla looked over in Levi's direction, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "You know, I'm pretty sure you were his first crush."

"Oh, my God, Mom,  _why_ would you  _tell_ him that?!" Eren whined as he sank almost far enough in his seat to hide his bright red face underneath the table.

**~~~~~**

"Please, please,  _please_ just forget everything my mom told you."

Eren had dropped his car back off at the garage that served the trainee dorms, and he was now following Levi down the sidewalk, the Arena wall looming on their left. He'd offer to drive, but Levi had said it wasn't far and he wanted to loosen up after sitting most of the morning.

"What, about you wanting to join and impress me?"

"Yes! And that's not the only- That's not why I want to get in the Games! I just... I want..." Eren huffed in frustration as he struggled to find the right words.

Levi stopped in front of a large set of double doors, his back to Eren. "You want to be able to pay for your mother's treatment, don't you? So she can see again?"

Eren gaped at him. "Yeah, I do. How...how did you know?"

Levi shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling under the simple black t-shirt he wore. "I'm a Mutant, too. I know how hard it is. And... I had a mother, once." Levi looked back over his shoulder at Eren, an odd expression that Eren had never seen on him in the admittedly brief time that he had known him. There was a softness to his usually hard gray eyes and his lips were canted upward in a smile that almost seemed sad.

"What...?"

Before Eren could puzzle out what Levi's cryptic words or expression had meant, the man had turned away from him and scanned a card in the slot by the door. "Well, it looks like your dream has a chance of coming true after all."

The doors slowly swung inward, revealing a large, open room. The floor was a light wood polished until it gleamed, and there were people in pairs and groups scattered across it, sparring or working out with equipment. The walls on either side of the room were lined with mirrors, and a large banner hung on the far wall depicted a pair of crossed wings in blue and white over a dark green background. Levi stepped back to gesture Eren through the doorway.

"Welcome to Survey Corps, kid."


End file.
